


When We Were Young

by ThebanSacredBand



Series: What Is A Man Without His Shadow? [1]
Category: Alexander (2004), Alexander Trilogy - Mary Renault, Ancient History RPF, Classical Greece and Rome History & Literature RPF
Genre: Ambitiousness, Childhood, Don't copy to another site, Lying about feelings, M/M, Referenced murder, short scenes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-25 19:22:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18580972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThebanSacredBand/pseuds/ThebanSacredBand
Summary: The first time Hephaistion met Alexander, he was seven years old and Alexander was six. He did not know, then, that this boy would one day be king. He only knew that he a more impressive toy than Hephaistion did, and that was not fair.





	When We Were Young

**Author's Note:**

> I was trying to write a follow-up to He Will Always Be Mine, but this happened instead.

The first time Hephaistion met Alexander, he was seven years old and Alexander was six. He did not know, then, that this boy would one day be king. He only knew that he a more impressive toy than Hephaistion did, and that was not fair.

The boys had pushed and pulled at each-other, until Amyntor had pulled them apart. Hephaistion had watched, confused, as his father bowed before this small boy and apologised for his son’s actions. Then he had been dragged away with a heavy hand, and punished severely.

“You cannot go against that boy, Hephaistion. He will be king one day. Then everything you are will depend on him.”

 

It was a few years later when Hephaistion saw the prince again. Philip had asked for boys of the right age (and class) to act as companions for his son. His father stressed, again and again, how important this was, that he must be good, get Alexander on side. His family had barely been important enough for Hephaistion to be chosen as a companion, and Hephaistion must use this opportunity to get anywhere in this world.

And so he did. He defended Alexander. Championed him. Said he was sure that Alexander knew what he was doing when he attempted to ride an untamed horse, even though he was fairly certain that the young prince was actually going to die.

Alexander barely spoke to him, preferring to spend his time with some of the older boys. But Hephaistion could see him watching, listening. That was all he needed, for now.

 

When he was fourteen, Alexander asked him, personally, if he would join him in his schooling at Mieza. It was not the type of question that could be refused, but even if it had been, Hephaistion would not have turned it down. This was exactly what he had needed, what his father had told him he had to do.

He almost said “I would follow you anywhere”, but it was too soon for that. He had still barely spoken to the other boy. But he would tell him that, someday. From as much as he knew about Alexander, he thought that the young prince might appreciate such a promise.

And even if he didn’t make such a promise, he would have to follow him anyway. What choice would he have? Alexander would be the king. Hephaistion was just a noble, born to be a general. Why not make such a promise to Alexander? However Alexander chose to interpret the statement, there would be truth behind Hephaistion’s words.

 

Alexander was reading a letter from his mother, another from his father laid beside him, when Hephaistion simply walked into his bedroom without asking. His eyes were brimming with tears as he looked up at the intruder.

Hephaistion began to apologise, to say that he had walked into the wrong room without thinking. (He hadn’t). But instead Alexander reached out, pulled him close, buried his head in Hephaistion’s neck as he wept. Hephaistion didn’t understand. That had grown closer at Mieza, but he had not thought that they were close enough for Alexander to trust him with this.

“I always heard the way you spoke about me, Hephaistion,” said Alexander, after he had calmed down, “and sometimes it feels that you are the only one who truly loves me. Mother tells me that father is a tyrant, and I must act against him. Father tells me that mother is a witch, and that she is trying to poison me with her wicked thoughts. But you?” He smiled weakly. “You want nothing from me, but love me for who I am. And I need that, I need you.”

For the first time, but certainly not the last, Hephaistion stooped down and kissed Alexander, if only to stop him from seeing the truth.

 

Alexander was sixteen, and regent, and the pair were back in Pella, lounging together on Alexander’s bed. Philip had gone off to besiege Byzantium – a foolish task, even Hephaistion with him limited martial knowledge could see that – and he had left Alexander in charge, with the aid of the loyal Antipater.

“It’s as though Philip doesn’t think you’re capable enough, leaving Antipater behind to watch over you like a nurse. You should do something, something spectacular, prove that you’re perfectly fine to watch over Macedon on your own.” Alexander had hummed non-committedly. The noise made Hephaistion almost angry. “Come _on_ , Alexander, you’re better than this. You _deserve_ more.

And his words wakened something in Alexander, apparently. For in a few short weeks, Alexandropolis was founded, and Alexander was ecstatic, and Hephaistion was _powerful_.

 

Hephaistion’s father may have been a general, but Hephaistion did not like the taste of war between his teeth. He could fight well enough, but in the confusion of the combat, he did not know which way was up nor which was down, only that he needed to protect Alexander, Alexander was the only reason he was who he was. That if Alexander died, this high status of his would slip through his fingers like sand.

Alexander, on the other hand, revelled in war. The Battle of Chaironeia was short but bloody, and Alexander had led the cavalry charge which destroyed the most powerful army in Greece.

Alexander could not stop talking about it. Hephaistion nodded at the right times, but all he could think about the bodies of the Sacred Band. Erastes fallen to protect their Eromenos, Eromenos to protect Erastes. And Hephaistion would have done the same. But he was not sure it was for the same reasons.

 

It was Philip’s eighth wedding, the first which Alexander was of an age to attend with the men. And so, of course, Hephaistion was right by his side. (The other companions were there too, but they did not matter, as far as Hephaistion was concerned. They were not Alexander’s _other_.)

They were drunk, of course they were drunk, it was a Macedonian evening. The fact it was a wedding only meant even more wine was poured than usual. And then the bride’s father, Attalus, stood up and toasted to the future children of Philip and Cleopatra, because _these_ children would be legitimate.

There was a fight, of course, and Hephaistion had dragged Alexander away, tried to calm him. But his mind was turning. Attalus had insulted Alexander, and that in itself was a threat. But if his statement held even an inkling of truth, then Alexander may not be king. And if Alexander was not king, then what was Hephaistion?

 

The rest of the companions convinced Alexander to attempt to marry a princess of Caria, some feeble attempt to thwart Philip’s scheming. They were all banished for this. Hephaistion was not.

“How did you know that I was not involved in convincing him, my lord?” he asked Philip, once he had gathered the courage to talk to the king.

Philip had laughed in his face. “What, and encourage him to find someone who may take your place in his ear? Of course not.” He leaned forward on his throne. “I only hope he works out what you’re about sooner rather than later, boy.” Perhaps Hephaistion should have been scared. But he was only angry.

 

 It was easier, perhaps, than it should have been to convince Pausanias. But then, he hated the king, and Attalus too. Hephaistion didn’t even need to make him promises of power after Philip’s death. He only had to promise that he would provide Pausanias a horse, so he could escape and live a life free of the burdens that had befallen him in Macedon.

And so Philip was stabbed at his daughter’s wedding, and Attalus was killed on the Persian border by Parmenion as soon as he found out. Pausanias died too, of course, before even making it to his horse. It was necessary. Hephaistion could not risk him revealing his name. But with the assassin’s mouth stopped, there was no-one who even suggested Hephaistion as a suspect.

And so Alexander was crowned king. And Hephaistion was right beside him.

 

“And finally, to Asia, Hephaistion!” Alexander murmured, tracing an invisible map on Hephaistion’s bare back. He encircled his soon-to-be-conquered territory, and placed a kiss at the centre. When he sat back up, he seemed to freeze. Hephaistion twisted to look up at the frown creasing Alexander’s brow.

“Finally to Asia.” He gave a soft smile up at Alexander, and reached out a hand to smooth his forehead. “What is troubling you, beloved?”

“You would come with me, even you didn’t have to? Wouldn’t you, Hephaistion?” Alexander asked, his voice tight. Hephaistion let out a soft laugh, then sat fully up and kissed him. He drew back, Alexander chasing after him, but he put a hand on his chest to stop him. He looked Alexander dead in the eye, and said to him the words that he had known, even as a boy, would be the words that won him Alexander.

“I would follow you anywhere.”

**Author's Note:**

> I feel the need to point out that there is absolutely no suggestion in the ancient sources that Hephaistion was involved in Philip's murder. But, well, if he was involved, I'm sure he would have liked it to remain that way.
> 
> I really love Hephaistion, and I'm really interested in knowing what people think about the way I write him; it me up in the comments or on my very new tumblr [lesmiserabiliad](https://lesmiserabiliad.tumblr.com/)


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